


Friendly Advice

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Rizzoli & Isles, Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Bridget Westfall needed some friends damn it, Crossover, F/F, just trust me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: Bridget Westfall meets up with old friends.





	Friendly Advice

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during Wentworth season 3. It isn't set during a specific season of Rizzoli & Isles, though in my mind it's one of the earlier seasons. It focuses mostly on the storyline of Wentworth. 
> 
> For people who don't know some of the characters:
> 
> Bridget Westfall (Wentworth): Forensic psychologist at Wentworth Correctional Facility, 40-something 
> 
> Angela 'Mercy' Ziegler (Overwatch): Field medic and first responder, 37
> 
> Fareeha 'Pharah' Amari (Overwatch): Security chief at Helix Security International, 32
> 
> Maura Isles (Rizzoli & Isles): Medical examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, 40
> 
> Jane Rizzoli (Rizzoli & Isles): Homicide detective for the Boston Police Department, 41

Bridget smiled as she walked into the small family-run restaurant she loved to frequent. It was calm, the food was good, and the atmosphere was laid-back.

“I’m part of the reservation in the name of Ziegler,” she announced. Two familiar faces were already seated in the far corner of the dining room, and the hostess led her over to them. The women quickly got up from their seats to say hello to the forensic psychologist.

“Bridget, how wonderful you could make it,” Angela greeted her, kissing her on the cheek. Her Swiss accent was obvious, as it always was. Fareeha shook her hand, and welcomed her with a short: “Hey.” Bridget sat down with them and looked around.

“Nope, they’re not here yet. Maura just texted that they couldn’t find it and Jane was refusing to ask for directions,” Fareeha explained. Angela giggled.

“Why am I not surprised?” Bridget joked. “They finally come to Australia, and Rizzoli’s stubbornness prevents them from actually finding us.”

Nearly fifteen minutes later the long-awaited pair of Americans entered the restaurant with quite some volume.

“See? I told you we’d find it!” Jane exclaimed. Maura just sighed in exasperation as the two were led over to the three women who had been waiting for them. Angela excitedly greeted them, not having seen them in a long time. Fareeha followed suit, albeit a bit more formal than her wife. The soldier had never lost the military etiquette she had grown up with, even now that she had retired from the force and led her own security company. Bridget often wondered whether she missed fighting in the frontlines. If she did, she never mentioned it. Smiling, she got up to hug her friends.

While the five women waited for their food to be prepared, the conversation quickly focused on the others’ favourite topic: Bridget’s love life.

“So, Gitta, have you met anyone recently?” Angela asked, leaning in towards the blonde Australian. Bridget chewed on her cheek while she tried to think of the most accurate answer. After some consideration, she answered truthfully: “There is someone who’s caught my eye, but it could never work out.”

“Why not?” The soft-spoken question came from Maura, who took a sip of her wine in anticipation.

“I’m…” Bridget began. “I’m her psychologist.” Jane shrugged.

“So you drop them as a client. There’s gotta be more psychologists in Melbourne.” The cop really did not see the issue. Bridget shook her head. Suddenly, realisation dawned on Fareeha, and she mumbled: “You’ve fallen for a prisoner.”

Bridget dropping her head onto her folded arms told them all they needed to know.

“Bridget, you can’t possibly be considering pursuing a relationship with this convict!” Maura immediately exclaimed, her eyes getting wide at the thought of her respectable friend getting involved with a  _ jailbird _ . Fareeha nodded in agreement.

“Tell us about her,” Angela gently prompted. Bridget turned her head to the side to face the Swiss blonde.

“I’ll just call her Chris for now. She’s...she’s beautiful, but that’s not what attracts me to her. She’s so smart, much more intelligent than she lets on. She’s well-read, brave; she’s got a fantastic sense of humour…” Bridget’s voice trailed off while her mind got lost in the thoughts of inmate number 220247. God, she even knew her identification number by heart; that was the amount of times she had looked at the brunette’s file. The four other women sitting at the table shared a knowing look. Fareeha nudged Angela, mumbling: “You have to say it.” Bridget sat up straight, staring at the girls.

“You’re in love with her, Gitta,” Angela announced. Bridget laughed at the statement.

“That’s ridiculous.” The four women collectively shook their heads.

“She’s right, Westfall. You’re smitten.” Jane looked a little too satisfied at her addition. The psychologist groaned loudly.

“What do I do?” The question was more directed to the universe in general than to anyone in particular.

“You distance yourself from her,” Fareeha suggested. Bridget considered the idea for a moment. Her heart dropped at the thought, but maybe the Egyptian soldier was right. It would be the only way. She could not get involved with an inmate. She just couldn’t.

“I don’t know how to do that without destroying her trust,” Bridget protested weakly. Jane shrugged again, replying: “So...you tell her.” Fareeha scoffed: “What, just tell her: ‘Hey, Chris, I have the hots for you?’ I doubt that would go over well.” Angela giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Of course not,” Maura suddenly added. “But she could explain the general idea of transference and countertransference, couldn’t she?”

“Maura, that is a fantastic idea!” Angela called out, clapping. Fareeha huffed: “Then can we finally eat now?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the most ridiculous crossover I've written in a long time.
> 
> Bonus points for anyone who knows where 'Chris' came from.


End file.
